


This Bitter Earth

by hopelessfornia



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Badass!Steve Rogers, Band camp, Band-Kid humor, Because of course he is, Drummer!Steve Rogers, Drummer!Tony Stark, Foul Language, Fury is the band director, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Vague and Pretentious Symbolism, because i suck duh, how do u tag, inappropriate use of drum sticks, long winded monologues about marching technique, no teacher/student tomfoolery here, not the teacher, steve is a drum-tech here, the marching band au no body asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessfornia/pseuds/hopelessfornia
Summary: The one where Tony Stark is the new kid and Steve Rogers is the asshole drum-tech. Slowish-Burn. Idiots to lovers because they are so goddamn stupid.For all intents and purposes, Tony is 18 years old because Steve is roughly 22. This plot device is already problematic to begin with. So nobody is underage! But someone is still in high school.This is also set in California because I do not know anywhere else except this state.





	This Bitter Earth

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO  
> I'm writing this purely for my own entertainment and because, I myself, miss marching band so much. I graduated high school six years ago and not a day goes by where I don't miss hanging out with my band friends. 
> 
> Some of the stuff in this fic are actual personal experiences of mine because yes doing band in high school was that crazy. I'm surprised I didn't get as hurt as I did. 
> 
> Also I know collectively we all hate Howard, but like, he's bad but he's not awful here. Then again I don't know a good dad myself because mine also sucks so.... I'm just winging it here. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy!

“I swear to god, Adrian, you kick me one more time, I’m throwing you out the window,” Tony practically growled and moved to punch his brother.

It wasn’t that the two didn’t get along, but they only got along as much as two siblings with a seven-year difference tend to. There’s a huge gap between an eleven-year-old and a freshly turned eighteen-year-old. 

“Mom, he’s threatening me again!” the eleven-year-old cried.

“Tony, stop threatening your brother,” their mom said tiredly. She was just as done with the drive as the boys.

“Dad, seriously how much longer?” Adrian asked. It was almost a whine, but he knew better.

“20 minutes. Also, leave Tony alone,” his father told him in an equally tired voice.

They were driving to northern-central California from Anaheim. In good traffic, it was roughly a six-hour drive, but they hit busy traffic heading into LA and the normal six-hour drive turned into an eight one. Everyone was restless from being cooped up for so long, especially Tony who had just finished a growth spurt. As he was coupled with sitting in the back, he couldn’t stretch his legs out that well. Or at all really. And his dad wouldn’t let him drive his own car all the way to Galton, so he was really pissed about that. 

Tony wasn’t particularly fond of the huge move from where he was born and raised, but he wasn’t unhappy about it either. He didn’t have many friends back home, to begin with, so perhaps the move would be good for him. He knew his new high school had a marching band, so at least he’d be able to keep up his hobby as a percussionist while also making a few friends.

He hadn’t heard much about the central valley high school marching bands, aside from the fact that a lot of them used to be unbelievably good in the early 2000s.

Tony came from a high school marching band that had about 50 members, two staff members: one for Color Guard and the other for percussion and visual matters, and his director. His old band wasn’t horrible by any means, but he always felt that their field shows constantly lacked something. Tony could never pinpoint what it was.

During Tony’s junior year, his band went to Clovis and took part in the Western Band Association Championship show. They took sixth in the preliminaries and didn’t make it to finals. Tony remembered how on the bus on the way back to the hotel everyone was screaming and yelling because ‘what the hell, we just took sixth place out 13?’ Not one of them was upset that they only missed finals by two-tenths of a point.

However, Tony knew that the Galton High School Marching Band and Color Guard was one of the best bands in the state if their scores from Championships were any indication. Tony wanted to join the band really bad. He had been itching to play and march since Winter Percussion ended in April. He certainly couldn’t wait till the first day of school to join, but he assumed band camp had come and gone as his old high school’s did the previous week (he attended but couldn’t march as he wouldn’t be on the field with them, so he couldn’t take a drill number; he just played and did basics with them). He was so ready to get a drill packet and music sheets and see a show come to life once again. 

The atmosphere of marching drums is different for each musician. However, most if not all will tell you that they feel at home on the field, and for Tony that is exactly what it felt like to perform: he felt at home. He felt comfortable.

During this reflection of drumming and marching, Tony hadn’t even realized that they had driven into the city where they would be living. Galton, California. Population approximately 142,000. This city was considerably smaller than Anaheim. It seemed a lot sleepier and very agriculturally-based, like most Central Valley towns. 

“Hey Tony, there’s your new high school,” Tony’s mom said, pointing at the school.

Tony looked at the school and noticed it had an electric markee standing high in front of the school. He caught a glimpse of one announcement about a fundraiser but the one after reading:  **Galton High School Marching Band and Colorguard Band Camp, July 27th- July 31st 9 am to 5 pm every day. Students, please wear athletic clothing and shoes, and please bring water.**

“Their band camp starts tomorrow,” Tony said as they drove past, “Can I go?” 

“You just finished band camp at. And you didn’t pack until last night because of it,” his dad said. “Unless you can unpack all of your stuff tonight, you’re not going.” 

Tony shot his dad a look, “I didn’t really do anything at the Riverdale Band Camp, I just did basics and warm-ups,” he argued.

“Then why did you go?” 

“Because I wanted to play,” Tony defended like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I haven’t played a snare since April.” 

“You have too! You’re always drumming in your room, it’s so annoying,” Adrian cried, “I’m trying to read or play something and you’re in your room banging around for  _ hours.”  _

“Dude, that’s a drum kit, not a marching drum.  They’re two completely different instruments.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“Yeah well, they’re two very annoying instruments,” Adrian fired back. 

“You’re an annoying human!” 

“Your mom’s an annoying human!” 

“She’s your mom too, you dumbass!” 

“Anthony Edward!” their mother yelled. 

“And home sweet home!” Their dad cheered as they pulled into the driveway of their new home. 

The new home was a quaint two-story that was sandwiched between two other quaint two-story houses. Tony’s parents really had moved them into a pinnacle of American Suburbia. The house had a nice front lawn with a tree and a porch that took up most of the front of the house.

“Isn’t it nice, kids?” Tony’s mom asked as they all climbed out of the car. 

Tony nodded silently while flexing his knees and calves after being cramped in the back seat for so long.  It was a very nice house that looked like it had been built in this century and painted in this decade. The entire neighborhood looked pretty new. 

“The moving trucks should be pulling up soon,” Tony’s father said as he clapped his hands together once. “Let’s go inside and kick on the A/C, I’m roasting out here.”

That was something Tony felt like he would never get used to; the hot weather of the Central Valley. It never got too hot in Anaheim, and if it did it wasn't for days at a time. 

"Hello! Are you the new neighbors?" a woman called from across the street. Tony looked over to see a slightly plump woman waving. A younger girl was standing behind her looking over the woman's shoulder. 

"Yes! Hello there!" Tony's mom yelled over. 

"This is rude, mom," Tony heard the younger girl say. 

"I'm just being friendly, Wanda," her mom waved her hand in front of her daughter’s face.

"You're yelling across the street, at people you don't know. For example, he looks frightened!" Wanda cried and pointed at Tony. 

Tony quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. 

“Whatever, let’s go over there. Come on Wanda.” 

The two walked over and immediately Tony’s mother introduced herself. 

“Hello, I’m Maria,” she smiled. 

“I’m Jane, this is my daughter Wanda,” Jane gestured to Wanda, who then waved and grinned. 

Wanda had dark hair with pink tips that were pulled back into a ponytail and nice blue eyes. She had similar physic to her mother but thinner and overall just younger. She seemed really sweet though. 

_ “You look like you play an instrument,” _ Wanda said suddenly, looking at Tony. That stopped Tony in his tracks, but band kids could smell other bands from a mile away sometimes. It was a freaky intuition thing, but nearly every band kid ever, had it. 

Tony nodded slightly and stayed quiet giving Wanda an opportunity to guess what instrument he played. 

“Saxophone?” Wanda said with a hopeful tone, as Tony shook his head grinning.

“I have a feeling you do, though,” Tony laughed. 

“I do, always wanted to do guard though, literally because of the glitter. But they don’t let you have pink hair so I’ve stuck with saxophone,” Wanda sighed, “You’re a drummer aren’t you? I can tell by the way you stand and the way you walk.” 

Tony nodded. Slightly put back at how sure she was. 

“You’re also wearing black skinny jeans in triple-digit heat,” Wanda points out, “our drum tech Steve, does the same thing. Steve’s a strange character, you’ll get to meet him tomorrow if you come to band camp,” Wanda elbowed softly into Tony’s side as she said this. 

Tony smiled at the irony. He had already decided to go to band camp. 

_ “Steve and I will get on like a house fire then.” _

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Wanda exclaimed.

Tony just winked at her. 

“You sly little boy,” Wanda squinted her eyes at Tony and grinned widely.

Tony just grinned with her, neither denying nor affirming her. Tony could tell Wanda was one of those girls who knew everything there was to know about everyone, but without being tacky about it. If classy gossiper were to be a title, Tony would probably give it to Wanda. She seemed like a brilliant and fun person. 

“Well, that was the moving company. The truck is stuck on the 99, there was a pretty bad accident,” Tony’s father called out while he hung up his cell phone, “They won’t be here till later tonight, which is good because it is hot as hell out here. But that also means we have no furniture…” 

“Nonsense,” Wanda’s mother called out suddenly, “you’re more than welcome to come over, get these boys fed and you two some time to relax before dragging in a bunch of furniture.” 

Maria began to protest, but Jane shook her head. 

“It’ll be nice to get to know you. You seem like very likable people, unlike a lot of the heathens that live on this street,” Jane rolled her eyes.

“It’s kinda true though, a lot of snobs live around here,” Wanda told Tony.  

Maria didn’t turn down the offer after all. The three of them headed over to Wanda’s house while Howard went and kicked the A/C on at their house. 

“I’m so excited for camp to start tomorrow,” Wanda tells Tony excitedly as they walk into the air-conditioned house. 

“What’s it like?” Tony asked, “Like what does your band camp entail?” 

“So much conditioning… Fury knows that most of us didn’t do much over the summer so he likes to whoop our asses back into shape before the school year starts and give the incoming freshmen a crash course on How To: Marching Band,” Wanda tells him, “but don’t let that frighten you, some of my greatest experiences have been at band camp and I’ve been to Disney World  _ twice _ .” 

Tony laughed but couldn’t help but feel a bit more intimidated by the mere fact that this band does actual physical training. There was a reason his band was so average, most of the athleticism that came with being in his old band was just from the fact they were marching a ten-minute show, they never went the extra mile when it came to keeping everyone in shape. 

“It’ll be fun, trust me!” Wanda reassures him. 

Tony couldn’t help but feel even more frightened. 

-

That night after everything in the moving truck had been put in the house, Tony laid on the air mattress he had set up in his bedroom and couldn’t help but be a little bit excited for band camp. Even if he was going to get his ass kicked, he was going to meet more like-minded people, whose passions level with his. And he couldn’t wait. 

  
  



End file.
